Eddy moves quickly, in case Anna notices him leaving, calls his name for him to stay. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her, because she’s chosen her own righteousness, her own anger above their son’s fragile heart. Eddy isn’t sure what he can do to protect his boy, but he knows he can’t be here, by Anna’s side, any more and so he walks quietly, back out into the rain, alone.
Chapter 17
Rosie sits at the kitchen table after the assembly. Upstairs, there are clothes all over the kids’ rooms, half-packed suitcases for all three and for herself. She’s wanted to leave so many times, but the truth is she can’t think of anywhere they could go. Her parents would ask too many questions; they’d find the kids too noisy, too messy. Rosie has been out of touch with old friends for too long to ask for refuge for the four of them, and the thought of staying in a cheap hotel is soul-crushing and still way too expensive.
She’d flipped, laughing hysterically, when Seb told her yesterday afternoon that he wasn’t going to resign, that he was going to hold an assembly to face the petition head-on instead. When she saw that he wasn’t laughing along with her, she’d told him he was selfish, that he wasn’t thinking about the impact on her or their kids, that he should just quietly resign, but even as she’d said the words, she’d known, of course, that that wouldn’t be the end. There would still be endless speculation about why he was resigning. The petition was just too noisy to let him slip away quietly. There was also a belief swelling up in her, a momentary pulse of possibility, that Seb was right: he wasn’t dangerous and of course he had a right to make private mistakes. But she’d stamped on these thoughts like they were on fire.
He’d wanted her to go to the assembly and she’d pictured herself standing by his side, limp and pathetic, like some insipid shamed politician’s wife. She’d shoved him in the chest and called him all the worst things she could think of.
Later that night, lying sleepless in bed, she’d imagined not going to the assembly, not knowing what he said, another blank spot for her imagination to colour in like it did every time she thought of Seb and Abi. This morning, when Seb had suggested again that Mrs Greene could sneak Rosie into the hall at the last minute, that Rosie could listen, unseen, behind the curtains at the side of the stage, she’d nodded and reluctantly agreed.
She’d watched Abi as she hovered by the entrance to the school, unsure whether to go in or not. She’d seen how Mrs Greene said something cursory to her and how Abi had stumbled forward. She’d felt Abi’s isolation, seen her bravery as she went into the hall, like she was eager to participate in her own downfall. She wanted to hate Abi, but she couldn’t because out of all the people there, the people Rosie counted as friends, their voices bouncing excitedly to each other, Abi was the only one who understood. The only one who arguably had even more to lose than Rosie but was going in anyway.
Mrs Greene pointed, wordlessly, to where Rosie should hide. She saw Eddy standing, nodding, as Vita babbled in his ear. Then she found who she was really looking for in the crowd: Abi, smiling briefly at the people next to her, but not talking to them. Rosie watched as Abi scanned the students and knew she was searching for her child. Rosie had to fight the urge to go and stand by her side. What would happen, she wondered, inside Seb if he looked up from his place on the stage to see them, Rosie and Abi, standing together?
While Seb talked, Rosie mostly watched the reactions of the students. Some chattered and laughed, becoming quiet and still as Seb talked about making mistakes, about trying to do the right thing. One boy looked at his hands in his lap, as though thinking about all his future fuck-ups. She was glad for these kids, glad they were having this experience so young in life. She watched their eyes widen in surprise. She thought perhaps they’d never heard an adult talk like this, and then she realized that she’d never heard anyone do anything like this before, either. She looked at her weary, ragged husband, the bright lights highlighting how alone he was. She saw all the faces of the parents, their jaws snapping in judgement, and was surprised to find herself crying, because it was such a relief to see him stand before all that judgement and disbelief. To see him standing flawed, fallible and so incredibly real, and suddenly her heart felt like it had tripled in size.
She was spotted walking away from the school after the assembly. A couple of mums asked if she was OK, if they could do anything to help.
‘It’s brave, I think, what he’s doing,’ one of them said. Rosie looked up at her and, even though she didn’t say anything, the woman’s words were like milk on a burn and Rosie realized that she agreed. Her husband was still a liar, still an arsehole, but at least, she thought, this time he wasn’t a coward.